CHAPTER 29

The Seeker

The Rhyus System, Karbay Nolan Sector

Date: Zeran 27, Year 4731

The Seeker continued its voyage, traversing an interdimensional rift as it pressed onward toward the Rhyus System.

Garen leaned back in the pilot’s chair, letting the ship’s autopilot guide them through the rift. Indicators blinked, soft electronic tones from the ship’s systems breaking the stillness of the cockpit.

At the rear of the ship, Klamarez sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by components he had acquired at Eteren One. Carefully, he sorted through them, separating those he intended to integrate in the near future, having already put some to use—or at least set them aside to further complete his projects. You can never have enough parts. I should’ve gotten more, he thought, his frustration muted by his satisfaction with what he’d managed to bring aboard.

Though he hadn’t gotten everything he wanted from Junk and Gems, the additions to his collection were more than enough to keep him busy for a while. If the opportunity arose, he might have considered returning—but with the Vanicktus Syndicate lingering at Eteren One, the risk was too high. For all he knew, a bounty had already been placed on his head, making every port a potential trap.

The rift redirector had saved him and the Seeker during their escape from the Syndicate ship in the Mottmor System, but its malfunction had unintended consequences. The device had worked—but not as intended. It was meant to give the Seeker space, not cause harm.

Conus analyzed the Seeker’s readings, but with limited data and little time, he couldn’t determine exactly what had happened to the Syndicate ship, though he had a strong suspicion. The redirector, meant to safely relocate ships through interdimensional rifts—shifting a pursuing vessel just far enough to allow the Seeker to escape—had instead left the Syndicate ship stranded between dimensions, or so it seemed. Escaping such a fate required knowledge few crews possessed.

Klamarez released a slow breath, his ears twitching as he reflected on how repaying his debt had shifted from a simple task to the graver burden of being held responsible for the loss of a Syndicate ship. Even if he repaid what he owed, it might not be enough. The loss of their ship had likely made it personal. If the Syndicate wanted a warning to others, he might become their perfect example.

The Rhyus mission was nearly over, yet instead of relief, a quiet apprehension settled over Klamarez. He had no idea what his future held—where he would go, what he would do, or how he would navigate the path ahead. Everything felt far more complicated than it had been just days ago.

Klamarez did his best to focus on sorting his parts, trying not to dwell on the problems he couldn’t currently control, as there was no point in stressing over what was out of his hands.

Meanwhile, Conus sat preoccupied with his own thoughts. Since leaving Eteren One, his mind had been fixated on a single name: Nomadiccus—his father’s trade ship. He couldn’t decide if it was a real memory or something his mind had fabricated.

He couldn’t shake the thought that his memories—the fragments he clung to—might not be real. Could I have imagined it? Whenever he searched too deeply, pain was the only response, sharp and relentless, as if his mind recoiled from the attempt. Was it real, or just a trick of my mind?

It wasn’t the sharp invasive pain from Eteren One or the searing spike on Chiex. Those had felt different—almost targeted. This pain was constant, familiar—manageable, until it wasn’t.

Conus knew better than to push himself, resisting the urge to dig into memories that refused to surface. His past existed in fragments—unreachable, always just beyond his grasp. Vague recollections lingered, pieces of what once was. Whether real, altered by time, or imagined entirely, he couldn’t say with confidence.

It was a cruel contrast to the perfect clarity he had gained after the accident; every moment since then was burned into his memory, yet much of his life before remained a mystery—known only in scattered impressions, half-remembered names, and elusive images that never quite fit together in his mind.

His childhood, his family—lost in the haze. No matter how hard he tried to remember, it was always the same.

The past taunted him, a whisper in his mind, only to vanish the moment he reached for it, leaving nothing but pain in its place.

But the revelation about Nomadiccus made it impossible to ignore the urge to dig deeper. The name clung to his thoughts, pressing him to uncover what had been buried—or lost entirely. As soon as he had the chance, he would search for more. If he could hold onto the name, perhaps it would lead him to something greater—something real.

Are there records to find? he wondered.

Though it would have to wait. For now, his goal was simple—get Garen to Rhyus. And that task was nearly complete. He had to focus. By focus, he meant finding something to occupy his attention—anything but searching his own mind.

In an effort to distract himself, Conus turned to the historical archives stored on his handheld PDA, reviewing detailed accounts of the Vorcon War—events he had read more than once. It had become a ritual, a way to keep himself from wandering the locked corridors of his own mind.

One particular mission had always stood out—an early account of General Garen Rivers during his command of the Warpstar, an assault frigate in the Rhyus Defense Fleet (RDF). While Garen’s legacy was largely tied to his years aboard the capital battlecruiser Riftkin, it was his time commanding the Warpstar that truly proved his ability to lead, eventually earning him command of the Riftkin itself.

RDF officers, upon reaching the rank of General, were often required to command various types of craft before being entrusted with a capital battlecruiser.

It demonstrated to many that his talents extended beyond melee combat and his skill behind the cockpit of a Verta fighter. He was more than just a warrior—he was a leader, a strategist. Those closest to him knew it, but this mission, like many others, left no doubt in anyone’s mind.

Garen proved himself time and again, and this battle was yet another example of his growing reputation in the RDF fleet.

The report detailed an engagement between the RDF and the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force (GVIF), a battle where both sides had deployed a large fleet. The Vorcons held the upper hand—some of their warships had longer-range firepower than anything the RDF fleet could match. With the ability to strike from great distances, the Vorcon warships kept RDF vessels at bay, forcing them to withstand heavy bombardment without a clear path to retaliate.

Garen, commanding the Warpstar, devised a strategy to counter this advantage and presented his plan to the admiral in command of the RDF fleet. He deployed a squadron of rapid assault craft—small, highly maneuverable ships designed to evade enemy fire and operate close to enemy lines. Each carried strike pods, creating the illusion of a large-scale RDF boarding operation.

The Vorcons, seeing what appeared to be an imminent boarding assault, shifted their focus. They redirected resources to defend their long-range ships, momentarily weakening their offensive line.

With the Vorcons reacting defensively, Garen moved to the next phase of his plan. He advised that the RDF fleet be split into smaller, mobile task forces, making them harder to target and forcing the Vorcons to divide their firepower across multiple directions. A second wave of rapid assault craft was then deployed, again carrying strike pods to maintain the deception and keep the Vorcons focused on the wrong threat.

The first and second waves of strike pods were bluffs—empty, meant only to draw fire and further disrupt enemy coordination. After multiple feints, Garen launched the real strike. A select few strike pods contained elite RDF operatives, while additional empty pods kept up the deception.

The operatives successfully infiltrated the Vorcon flagship and several other key warships within the fleet. They planted explosives deep within the engine rooms, then evacuated just before detonation. The resulting explosions crippled the Vorcon flagship and severely damaged multiple vessels, fracturing their formation.

The loss of their flagship and heavy damage to multiple vessels sent the Vorcon fleet spiraling into disorder.

The RDF saw their opening and attacked from multiple angles, overwhelming the Vorcons.

Garen’s plan had worked. His deception and battlefield awareness had turned a one-sided fight into a decisive RDF engagement, proving his ability to think ahead, adapt, and outmaneuver a superior force—leading to an RDF victory.

Conus glanced up from his PDA, almost unable to believe this was the same man he had just read about. It felt surreal—here was a man whose exploits had become the stuff of legends, now sitting just a few feet away. Yet, beneath Garen’s composed exterior, Conus sensed a guardedness, as if the General was deliberately keeping everyone at arm’s length.

"General," Conus asked hesitantly, finding himself asking the question before he even realized it, "do you miss the fleet?"

Garen smiled faintly, his eyes fixed on the forward display, watching the feed of the rift’s swirling depths. The white streaks stretched and twisted, forming an ever-shifting tunnel that rippled with unseen currents. Light pulsed within, erratic and uneven. It extended beyond sight, an endless corridor of distortion.

Of course, he missed the fleet. He missed that time in his life. But being in the fleet now—did he miss that? No. That time had long passed, replaced by thoughts of what might have been.

"Sometimes, I miss being part of something bigger," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. His hand drifted to his beard, stroking it absently. "But I never wanted to fight a war. Yet, that’s what my career became." He looked back to the console. “Peaceful days in the fleet... that’s all I ever wanted. But I never got them.”

He paused, his expression growing distant. "Chiex—that was peace," he muttered. "Unanswered mysteries... ones I should’ve explored further," he added, his voice trailing off. Garen had expected more time—so much more.

For an instant, he was back in the forests of Chiex, the quiet broken by the calls of unseen creatures and the rush of running streams. Simpler, he thought. But it had never been what he imagined. None of it had brought the peace he sought.

Snapping back to the present, he took a quick glance at Conus. “It’s hard to imagine you’ve had a mostly peaceful career in the RDF.”

“The war ended not long after I graduated from the academy,” Conus replied, recalling his early days in the fleet, never having seen the front lines. “A lot of peacekeeping, providing aid... a different time.”

Klamarez, who had been listening quietly from the rear of the ship, let out a scoff. “Providing aid?”

Garen glanced toward Klamarez, already knowing what was coming.

"The RDF often lends aid to other worlds," Conus’s words were level. To him, it was a fact.

“Only when it suits them,” Klamarez replied sharply.

“Suit them?” Conus echoed, frowning. “You’ve always had strong feelings about the RDF, Klamarez.” His tone was casual, though curiosity seeped through.

It was not the first time since their journey began that Klamarez had indicated his strong feelings about the RDF.

“Care to share what’s really on your mind?” More than anything, he wanted to understand. The Seven Worlds had helped the Camerians... hadn’t they? Hadn’t they? he wondered.

Klamarez set down the component he’d been inspecting.

"I’ll always be grateful to the RDF for driving the Vorcons out. Things could’ve been worse—far worse."

That was hard to imagine, but it was true.

His voice, usually warm, now carried a chill, the tension replacing his usual calm.

"But after they left... that was a different story. Calio was a mess—starving, looting, murder, and things I don’t even want to think about. Our people begged the Council of Seven for the RDF to stay longer, to step in and restore order. They refused. They said their job was done. It was far from done."

He paused, his green eyes narrowing as those days came rushing back. “They brought us aid, sure. But you know what happened to that aid? It was taken by thugs. Gangs of them. The RDF didn’t stay to enforce anything—they left us to fend for ourselves.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The RDF prided itself on aiding struggling worlds, but their records never detailed what happened once their ships departed. The reality left behind was never recorded—after all, the RDF wouldn’t paint itself in a negative light.

The galaxy was filled with those lying in wait, ready to exploit the vulnerable and desperate, patiently waiting for the RDF to depart—striking the moment opportunity presented itself. Calio was overrun by desperate Camerians and raiders from other worlds who seized the opportunity left in the wake of the Vorcon defeat and the human withdrawal. The planet needed time to stabilize before it could stand on its own again.

Klamarez’s voice caught slightly, his eyes narrowing as memories surfaced.

'When I look back... the worst things happened when the Vorcon Empire occupied my homeworld. But the worst things I’ve ever done... I did after they left. Violence. So much violence... things I’ll never forget,' he said, closing his eyes.

For a moment, nothing existed except his words.

Garen’s eyes remained fixed on the console, but his hands gripped the armrests of his chair tightly, his knuckles pale. He didn’t speak—he just listened. He had voiced those concerns at the time, but Calio was no longer a priority—for the RDF, for the Council of Seven. The enemy had been defeated, and as far as the Council and RDF Command were concerned, their job on Calio was done.

The Rhyus Defense Fleet was supposed to be more than just a war fleet.

Conus sat quietly, the raw emotion in Klamarez’s words sharpening a reality he had only understood in the abstract before. He could see where Klamarez was coming from, but still found it hard to view the RDF and the Seven Worlds as being in the wrong. They had helped the Camerians—helped many worlds.

Klamarez fell silent, his expression dark as he relived those painful memories.

“War has a way of consuming everything,” Garen’s voice was quiet, carrying a trace of bitterness. “It defines you, shapes you into something that’s hard to let go of long after the battles are over.”

"I only know what happened on Calio," said Klamarez.

"What happened on Calio was more than enough for anyone to endure," Garen replied. "That’s enough for anyone."

Klamarez didn’t say anything but nodded slowly.

Conus thought it over, listening to both Klamarez and Garen reflect on how deeply their pasts had affected them.

He hadn’t expected Garen’s words to hit so hard, but they did. It struck him how much the man before him had sacrificed—not just on the battlefield, but in the years spent fighting wars he never wanted, missing out on the peace he had always longed for. And in the end, he had lost his career because he stood up for what he believed.

Conus knew the Vorcon conquest of Calio had been brutal, but listening to Klamarez speak and seeing the look in his eyes, he realized he didn’t fully understand. Whatever Klamarez had witnessed, whatever he had endured—it was far worse than Conus had ever imagined.

An alert echoed through the ship. They had reached the territory just outside the Rhyus System, skirting the dimensional inhibitor field—a defense mechanism that prevented ships from opening rifts directly inside the system. This barrier forced all incoming vessels to emerge at the system’s periphery, requiring them to cover the remaining distance under sublight speeds.

At the heart of the security network stood a star base that functioned as both a command nexus and the core of the dimensional inhibitor. The star base was crucial to maintaining the integrity of the inhibitor field. Supporting this hub were auxiliary stations dispersed across the system, working in concert to amplify the field’s effectiveness. However, the system’s intricate design had a critical vulnerability: if the central star base were to fall, the outlying stations would be unable to sustain the field on their own, leaving the Rhyus System dangerously exposed to interdimensional incursions.

This defensive architecture gave the Seven Worlds of Rhyus a critical strategic edge, acting as a buffer that provided crucial time to rally defenses against potential invasions. It kept their star system secure, or at the very least, prevented enemy ships from launching surprise attacks on their planets, giving the RDF the time needed to respond.

The Seeker surged from the rift, its frame shuddering as the stabilizers kicked in. The interdimensional rift drive created an opening, forcing the ship back into normal space.

Klamarez glanced at the console and made the necessary adjustments. The shields dipped briefly before stabilizing, catching his attention.

"Still working out the kinks," he said, shrugging as he monitored the energy output.

He had noticed the same fluctuation each time the ship emerged from a rift. Maybe it was nothing—just a quirk of the system.

Still, it was worth watching.

Now that he had experienced the Seeker in flight, he looked forward to the opportunity to spend more time refining his ship.

"You really got me wondering if this thing will hold together," Garen said, though his tone carried no real concern.

“Is everything okay?” Conus asked, noticing the brief concern on Klamarez’s face.

Klamarez took an extra moment, looking at his screen to verify. "All good, wondering why exiting a rift is putting such a strain on the shields."

"If the ship’s shield frequency isn’t properly tuned to counteract the shift between dimensions, it could momentarily destabilize when we re-enter real space. The shields are probably absorbing excess dimensional feedback," Conus offered as a suggestion.

Klamarez’s face lit up. "Of course!" he said, immediately making notes on his PDA.

With the Seeker now out of the rift, Garen retook helm control, guiding the ship further into the Rhyus system.

Garen smiled back at the Camerian. “The Seeker is a fine ship, Klamarez,” he said, appreciative.

Klamarez nodded. "Thanks, Garen."

"You should be proud of what you’ve built," said Conus. "I hope to one day see the finished result."

Klamarez nodded absently, his mind drifting to his uncertain—and perhaps dangerous—future.

He reached into his pocket, fingers curling around a small, carved stone—a memento from Calio. Its cool surface steadied his restless thoughts as he traced the initials etched into it.

The stone wasn’t just a keepsake. It was a Camerian tradition, a piece of home. A reminder not only of what he had lost, but of who he had lost.

Conus glanced at the TRACE display. "We’ve just entered the Rhyus system."

“Looks like we made it, Garen,” Klamarez remarked.

“We’re not there yet,” Garen replied.

"Don’t be so grim, Garen," Klamarez teased.

“I’m not being grim,” Garen said. “I’m being cautious. We’ve had far from a smooth journey so far. Any other enemies you haven’t told me about?” Garen shot Klamarez a quick smile, glancing back at him.

Klamarez snorted.

"We won’t have any problems in the Rhyus System," Conus said, confident.

After everything that had happened in the past few days, Garen wasn’t so sure.

Klamarez grunted as he rose, stowing away the components he had been tinkering with before returning to his post at the communications station. His eyes moved over the Seeker’s interior, noting every detail. Though the ship still bore exposed panels and open spaces begging for more equipment, he smiled faintly, his fangs just visible. So much work to do, he thought, eager to get started.

As the Seeker ventured deeper into the Rhyus System, an eclectic array of spacecraft appeared on the TRACE. Shuttles, freighters, and commercial vessels dotted the space around them.

A Rhyus Cruise ship drew Klamarez’s attention. Its communications channel filled with advertisements and announcements: promises of galactic adventures, luxury accommodations, and exclusive travel deals. Klamarez chuckled quietly to himself. That kind of extravagance felt like a distant dream, but it was amusing to imagine.

Then there was the RDF—the omnipresent fleet patrolling the system with an array of ships dedicated to scanning, monitoring, and, if necessary, boarding vessels to ensure security. The Rhyus System was never without the watchful eyes of the RDF. Their presence was constant, their ships a mix of designs, enforcing order.

The Rhyus System, with its seven planets and eighteen moons, was often called the galaxy’s most populous—a claim hotly debated. It was hard to know for certain.

The system was packed with starbases serving a wide range of purposes: from RDF strongholds to trade hubs, observation stations, commercial outposts, and mining operations.

Conus found himself drawn to the display on the Seeker’s TRACE system. "A Noth trade ship—rare sight in this system," he remarked.

"The Noth?” Klamarez’s ears twitched with curiosity. “I’ve heard of them, sure—but never seen one myself. Only ever mentioned in passing.” He paused, thinking. “They’re from the—" A moment of hesitation. "The Yaleris System?” he said uncertainly.

"Close," Conus replied, glancing over at him. "They’re from the Lymigo System."

The two star systems were in the same sector, relatively close in proximity—at least on a galactic scale.

"Ah... Lymigo," said Klamarez, wrinkling his nose. "Never been there myself. Was close more than once—well, close enough."

Klamarez noticed an incoming message on his communications console. 'Garen, we’ve got landing coordinates from Rhyus HQ.' He transferred the data over.

Garen glanced at Conus, his expression faintly amused. "Seems they’ve been keeping a close eye on us. I’ve been away a long time, but I can still find my way to command—assuming it’s in the same place."

Conus, slightly amused, said, "It is, General."

Klamarez glanced at the Seeker’s communications console, scanning the Rhyus System’s myriad frequencies. Cycling through various channels before settling briefly on a news broadcast.

"The emergence of the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force has been deemed an isolated incident," the broadcaster announced. "There is no evidence of an immediate threat, and reports suggesting otherwise appear to be overblown. The Rhyus Defense Fleet has ensured there is no danger to the Rhyus System. The Council of Seven has opened diplomatic channels with the Vorcon Empire."

Klamarez didn’t linger on the channel, quickly moving through the frequencies.

Garen and Conus exchanged a glance and shook their heads at the report, neither convinced by the attempt to downplay the situation.

The cabin filled with the strains of a melody. Klamarez changed the channel, but when Garen said, 'Keep that on, I haven’t heard this in forever,' he switched it back.

The music enveloped the cabin.

Klamarez made a face, his ears twitching slightly as the song's distorted string sounds filled the Seeker.

Garen began to sing along, his deep voice resonating in the confined space:

"I’m not your god, though I’m your creator.

You fail to bow, we’ll displace you.

You think you’re strong, but you’re just mistaken.

I forged your path, now your soul is shaken."

As the song launched into a long solo, Klamarez reached over and turned the volume down slightly, giving Garen a pointed look. “What are they called?”

“Eyes of the Falcon,” Garen replied, pausing to mime an air guitar with surprising enthusiasm. “I’m going to have to get some of their music while we’re here.”

“Eyes of the Falcon,” Klamarez repeated, his ears twitching slightly. “Well, it’s a different sound, for sure.”

Conus was lost in his own thoughts. Memories of Cresnor rose in his mind. It had been a full year since he’d last set foot on the planet, despite spending considerable time in the Rhyus system recently. Cresnor had once been a sanctuary after the loss of his parents—a place where he had found stability and comfort with his grandparents. But now, that connection felt severed. His grandparents were gone, and their old home belonged to someone else.

The last time he had visited, he’d hoped to find closure, but all he found was an empty echo of what Cresnor had once meant to him. That visit had only solidified his decision to move forward—there was nothing left for him there, no reason to return. The realization was painful, but it felt necessary. Now, his path led him elsewhere, even if the destination remained uncertain. Still, a part of him hoped to find a clue—something that could lead to answers, or at least the right questions to begin his search.

The planet Rhyus came into view on the forward display, a swirling marble of blues and greens. Twin orbiting starbases stood on opposite ends of the capital world, surrounded by constant activity. The space around the planet was alive, motion never ceasing—nothing stood still.

Freighters, shuttles, patrol craft, and various other vessels, each carrying a story of its own, littered the area.

The starbases enforced strict protocols governing all incoming ships, monitoring and communicating with each vessel. Every ship was required to register and receive clearance before approaching the surface.

"We’ve just received another message," Klamarez announced, glancing at his console. “It looks like we’ve been granted clearance to bypass system registration.”

“Looks like Admiral Lavont wants to expedite our arrival,” Conus remarked. “That’s lucky for you, Klamarez.”

"Why’s that?" Klamarez asked.

“Otherwise, we’d have to stop at the base and get you registered first. The protocols are strict. They’ll probably issue you a temporary visa once we land.”

Garen nodded, shifting his focus from the viewscreen to the landing coordinates displayed on his console.

“So, the RSIA offices are at RDF Command?” Garen asked.

“Admiral Lavont has an office there,” Conus replied. “But the RSIA’s main location isn’t on Rhyus. He usually meets non-RSIA assets at RDF Command, but that won’t be the case for much longer. The RSIA floor has been reassigned to the Rhyus Internal Affairs Bureau. The move will become official within the next couple of Synods.”

“Relocating where?” Garen asked, his expression tightening.

"The main RSIA base is on Morelus," Conus explained. "They’ve been there for a while, but having offices on Rhyus has been convenient. The Morelus base has strict security protocols. They're securing a permanent facility for future operations on Rhyus, separate from RDF Command. RSIA Command is—and will remain—on the moon Morelus."

Garen stared at the console, unreadable as ever. This information confirmed just how much the RSIA had grown. It had become a powerful force, and his former mentor was in charge. It also further highlighted the division between the RDF and the RSIA.

Only those who knew him well might have caught the tension in his posture.

After so many years, the prospect of meeting Amar again left Garen with a swirl of mixed emotions—nostalgia, bitterness, and a cautious curiosity.

His thoughts turned to the likely purpose of the meeting. Countering the Vorcon threat seemed the obvious reason, but Garen couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be more to it. He considered the possibilities, not denying that he knew the Vorcons well, but this could not be as simple as that. No matter what was coming, one thing was certain—this meeting would be anything but simple.

The thought of seeing Lavont again unsettled him. Would the anger return—the same anger from all those years ago?

And then, there was Terra. She would be there. He could already see her face.